D(a)emons
by ParselenicGreen
Summary: In a world where dæmons had existed since the beginning of time, it should really be no surprise to anyone that Harry Potter was not as golden or light as he had always led others to believe. After all, having a dæmon as a fox should be a warning enough. You shouldn't trust a trickster. Ever. Dæmon!AU, grey/dark!Harry, HarryMort SLASH
1. Of Horses

**Title:** D(a)emons

 **Summary:** In a world where dæmons had existed since the beginning of time, it should really come as no surprise to anyone that Harry Potter was not as golden or light as he had led people to believe. After all, having a dæmon as a fox should be a warning enough. You really shouldn't trust a trickster. _Ever_.

 **Rating:** Fiction T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes. [cr. fictionratings]

 **Pairing:** HarryMort (Harry Potter/Voldemort)

 **Themes:** _grey/dark!Harry_ , _eventual slash_ - _contains same gender relationships_ , _dæmons!AU_

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own _Harry Potter_ , written by _JK Rowling_ , or any of its characters. I also do not have own _His Dark Materials_ by _Philip Pullman_. This is written for pure entertainment only and not for profitable gain.

* * *

 _Dæmons_  
They are the external physical manifestation or 'inner-self' of an individual. They take animal shapes and are always near their human counterpart. Dæmons are able to communicate just as well as people. They are able to change their shape at will during childhood but will eventually settle into an animal that reveals their human's true nature and personality - showing their worth and soul.

.

 **Prologue: _Of Horses_**

.

Maybe they were right. Maybe he was indeed a _freak_.

After all, he had grew up going by that name.

A fitting name, for a child like him. Someone who was unwanted by his own parents, who left him in the care of his relatives rather than raise him themselves. They were bad people, alcoholic and always drunk; it was what led them to their deaths. Drunk driving. Or... at least that was what his uncle said. He tends to spout more stuff when he's busy giving him a beating. Though he wasn't really sure if he's saying the truth or not.

Nevertheless, it still stung. To know that your parents did not want you.

He wondered why they even bothered. It wasn't like he had a better future with his remaining family, after all. Look how his life had turned out - him slaving away the day everyday for the past 10 years and so of his life, never experiencing a childhood every child deserved, never experiencing love from his last living relatives nor receive even proper care and resources from them.

He was thrown in a cupboard under the stairs, -the only thing he could truly call his- the minute he was delivered into that wretched house hold, he spent the first four years of his life learning how to do all the chores, surviving and desperate for food. He learned to crawl by himself, he spoke his first word alone and first gained understanding in that little cupboard. He went through 10 years of torture, which he was sure that most people his age could not even begin to imagine, let alone live through, without breaking down. But despite all that he had endured, he wasn't exactly alone. And that was something he was truly grateful for.

Because he knew, that it if weren't for its company - he would've been the perfect abused child, eager to please and, easy to manipulate and mold by the first person that shows him affection. A mellow broken child which will then be painted to be seen as someone who lived the perfect life - seen nothing more but a spoiled child wanting more attention.

The perfect weapon.

A shame _really_...

.

Harry knew exactly what other people thought of him. His relatives had taken the initiative to spread about his juvenile ways, his bad behaviour, laziness and anything negative they could possibly think of him. He was often looked at in distaste and fear.

It wasn't exactly hard to do, after all; for others to believe all the rumours that surrounds him.

A dæmon has always been what defined you. Without it, you were unpredictable. Someone dangerous - _a nobody._ Having no dæmon meant being an abnormality. A speck of black in a sea of white.

And thats exactly who he was. Or at least... they thought he was - hence the name _Freak_.

It wasn't that he had no dæmon. _No_. That wasn't the case.

His dæmon had basically raised him. He was always right there next to him, never straying.

A _horse_. Yet it _wasn't_ a horse. It was skeletal and had reptilian features. He had wide leathery wings that resembled a bat.

Harry had been frightened when he first laid eyes on it. It was monstrous and horrendous looking, he vaguely remembered having nightmares about it when he was younger. He got used to it after a while.

Harry had first thought only he could see it. That, or maybe he was deluded. An imaginary friend, perhaps? But seriously, who would have a creature that looked like it came from a horror movie as an imaginary friend? Him, apparently. He was a bit relieved, however, ,when he discovered that someone else _could_ see it. Albeit it wasn't really a good reaction from the other party.

It was a woman, sat on a wheelchair with parts of her body scarred and burned. She only had inconsistent patches of hair on her head. Harry thought it was a miracle she had lived.

He was on his way home from school when he met her. His uncle had refused to associate himself with him so he wasn't allowed a lift from their car. The big man had almost ran over him at one stage - although he doubt it would have been an accident if he was indeed hit. She took one look at the creature at his side and screamed in sheer terror. He could relate, he was scared of it too when he had first taken a good look at it.

The man holding on to her wheelchair was startled, of course. "What's wrong?" He had asked her as he continuously looked back to where she had been staring. "There's nothing there."

He apologised profusely for it in the end. Stating how his wife had been through a traumatic experience - having just escaped death and could possibly be hallucinating. Harry knew that wasn't the case. He accepted the apology anyway and did not bother to correct him.

He knew however what to name his horse companion.

After the God of mischief,

 _Loki_.

.

 **Present**

Harry yawns as he carefully rises from his cot. He was careful with his head, having the painful experience of hitting his head on the ceiling one too many times. He looked at his bed mate, marvelling about the fact of how he could have possibly fit on the small poor excuse of a bed.

"Loki. Get off me." He grumbled, keeping in mind to keep his voice quiet as to not wake up his other relatives. It wasn't that he particularly cared about their well-being, he just didn't fancy getting a beating.

His companion grunted, stretching out and squishing him agains the wall. Harry sighed and crawled underneath, opening the door to his cupboard and went to start doing his long list of house chores.

Once he got the family's breakfast ready, managing to gobble up some himself. He went to get the daily mail, not quite believing his eyes when he found one addressed to him.

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Thank you for reading you guys.  
English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes. _

_Peace out,  
_ _Parsel._


	2. Of Birds

+I will write in snippets to speed things up (this is not my usual writing style!) and get to the actual story. Please bear with me!

.

 **Chapter One:** ** _Of Birds_**

It licked at his skin, sending tingles down his spine. It engulfed him with warmth, making the hair on the base of his neck stand up. He felt a pressure inside him waiting and ready to burst out - so close to just wanted to do something. _Anything_.

He didn't know whether he should feel angry, sad or happy... or even all three of them perhaps. He didn't know what to do. If he should maybe just unleash everything he had; let his powers break free in a furious rampage while destroying everything in its path, or start bawling his eyes out and wallow himself in self pity - feel remorse for the life that was stolen from him and for everything he had missed, or simply start laughing hysterically as a mean to amuse himself while he thinks about the irony of it all and let everything sink in his head.

Harry ended up not choosing any of those options anyway. Instead, he put on a poker face - his first line of defence; one that is impenetrable and indestructible. It hid the stormy emotions the lurked within him behind his fake aloofness, hid the jumbled conflicting thoughts he was having and pushing it to the very back of his mind, and grabbed a hold of himself or whatever else was left of him. He took a deep shaky breath. He knew no one would actually understand what he was currently feeling, could decipher the madness of it all and how close it actually hit home for him.

All the while he was busy slaving away his life to gain just maybe a few scraps of what you could barely call food, he had a pile of gold sitting in his trust fund. All the while he was busy working his ass off to earn just a few pennies for his essential needs, his relatives were busy spending the monthly allowance he was being sent regularly. It was his money that allowed his relatives to live a comfortable life and experience a bit of luxury here and there.

He was _rich_.

Harry wanted to pull his hair out - wanted to yell his lungs out until he could not anymore. Because while he was busy being angry and guilty at himself for being such a burden, his relatives were busy exploiting the money that was supposed to be for him. It frustrated him more than anything else, it frustrated him _so much_.

Don't get him wrong, he wasn't greedy. While they did indeed spend his allowance (a rather large sum mind you) he only needed a fourth - maybe even a fifth - of it to have three decent meals a day.

It was flipping _unfair_.

Closing his eyes and reeling in the magic that had unintentionally leaked from him while he was having an inner tirade, he made a quivering exhale and unclenched the fist that had curled up unconsciously - watching as blood trickled down from where his nails had dug unto his palm towards the ground. He scuffed at the dirt, covering the few droplets of blood with sand and earth. You can never be too careful with your blood - not that most people actually knew how to make use of it properly.

Reaching out and soothing the wings of his dæmon, he pulled the hood a bit further forwards; causing more shadows to go over his face to hide his identity. With his hand still on his dæmon, he set off to get his _first_ wand. Now that he finally knew the extent of his power and political strength, Harry had no qualms of letting others control him. He would not have his every spell track down by the ministry. This was his game now. He made the rules, he made the moves and he had complete control. He was to learn magic, and he intended to learn _every single one_.

He would make sure of it. Those who took part of making him live through a shitty life would pay. _Dearly_.

.

Despite what his relatives may think, Harry was not stupid. In fact, he knew a little more than he should.

He knew his place.

He knew that the customs would be different and the normality would be different, as well. (He had spent a whole night reading through stacks of them.) While Harry was indeed a wizard - _a half blood_ , he did not grow up in the wizarding world. He was perfectly aware of the fact. He also knew that it would be him that would need to adjust. Not the _other way_ around. It was simply just the way it _should_ be.

He had read through books, articles and anything he could get his hands of about the magical world, in order to get an understanding of it. And more importantly, he had read through books that mentioned his dæmon. After all these years, he finally knew. A _thestral_ , a magical creature only those who had seen death can see.

Harry wondered if was caused by the killing curse a dark lord has sent him when was a babe had anything to do with it. He really couldn't find it in himself to mind. He however, certainly noticed more looks from others as they studied his Loki.

He didn't mind that either.

.

Harry felt a small amount of satisfaction as he watched the old wand maker dive down for cover as a chair went sailing over his head - barely missing him by mere inches. He had been stuck in Ollivanders for hours, having already gone through a pile of wands and never finding the right match. He was getting angsty and it turns out his magic thinks so too. Its outburst had been getting bigger and worser after every ten minutes that passes and Harry had no doubt in his mind that it would eventually succeed in actually killing the old man soon. He should've known he had sadistic tendencies - he was secretly entertained by the madness of it all.

Loki neighed, reading his thoughts and agreeing with him. The dæmon wondered how many near death experiences would it take for the wand maker to actually see him. He looked forward to finding out. The thestral eyed the old man's equally old dæmon - a tortoise. If it was an actual living being, Harry would've thought it would be more than a hundred years old - it looked ready to fall and die.

It didn't surprise him when the wand maker practically ripped the wand out of his hand. The latter had been increasingly hesitant to hand him a new wand to try out, going by the outcomes of the shop because of his magic; shattered windows, explosions and strong gusts of winds that threw objects across the room. On a positive note, Harry had learned a new spell - something he surely would try out once he gets this wand situation settled.

"Ok, that's enough." The old man huffed as he feared for his life. He sighed as he looked at the wand he held in his hand - Holly wood with a Phoenix feather core, 11 inches.

Harry unconsciously held his breath as he tentatively held the wand carefully in his hand and gave a hesitant wave. There were no explosive outbursts this time as magical sparks of colours danced in the air. He frowned, looking down at the wand. It just didn't feel... _right_.

"Ah wonderful." Mr. Ollivander breathed out with a sigh of relief. Finally. "What do you think, young lad?"

Harry looked at the wand, unimpressed. "I think I felt a tingle."

In the end, he got a custom made one. The same core and length but made with Ebony wood.

A bit pricier than the ready made ones, _yes_.

But definitely worth it.

.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there._

 _._

Harry was led towards a secluded room to settle his inquiries. He wanted to have full control of his assets and riches. Ensuring that not even a penny was stolen from him. Yes, he had been pretty lenient with his relatives. With them stealing his money and all, but he had only been a notified a day earlier by the bank when he had reached out to them and had only known about the situation a day ago. He was not stranger to handling his money. He had educated himself to be smart - cunning even.

"Greetings, Griphook." Harry sent a respectful nod towards the goblin who had helped him immensely the previous day. He was pleased when he was sent a nod in return, just as respectful.

"It has come to my attention that someone has been taking money out of my vaults for this past 11 years?"

His account manager solemnly nodded, "Yes. It seems that your magical guardian had seen it fit to use your money for his own gain. As he is your magical guardian, we unfortunately have no right to question his demands. Unless..." A small devious grin slowly made its way on his lips, "...there seems to be some issues?"

Harry gave a small smirk, his eyes cold and furious at the thought of someone having stolen from him. "I have never heard of this magical guardian before."

"Well... that does seem to be a problem."

He walked out of the bank six million galleons richer. It may seem like a small amount compared to what he still had in his vaults, it was still twenty-nine million and slightly over a half million pounds.

He cackled out loud however as he imagined what their reactions would be like when they open the mail that states the debt they owed him. He ignored the wary and weirded out stares he got from the crowd around him as he petted his dæmon's flank gently. It would be absolutely priceless.

.

It didn't come as a surprise for Harry to find that his thestral dæmon wasn't a thestral anymore. A person was always changing, improving and gaining more knowledge every single day. An experience could outright change a person drastically. For Harry, that is exactly what happened; he had felt the joys of magic, felt its welcoming warmth and pleasant hums - and he had loved it from that moment forward.

He watched with a gleam in his eyes as his faithful dæmon morphed into another - shrinking and reducing in size. The wisp of smokes vanished and Harry could finally see his dæmon's new form.

A _crow_.

Its feathers were pitch black - as dark as midnight. Harry knew what a crow symbolises. Crows were extremely intelligent, and were also an omen of death and change. They represent ancient magical laws and wisdom, and is a reminder of the creation and magic around everything. It was fitting, he thought. He just wondered if having a thestral (a creature only seen by those who had seen death) and a crow (an omen of death), implies his impending doom.

 _Meh_.

He couldn't really find it in himself to care at the moment.

.

"Hogwarts too?" Harry looked up from the staring contest he was having with the wall across from him. He was getting fitted for his robes at Madam Malkins - ushered straight away to stand on a stool as he came in and was told to keep his arms outstretched as workers busied around him. He glanced at the blonde boy beside him, getting fitted for his robes as well, in surprise - he hadn't noticed him at all.

Harry had to bite his tongue too keep himself from giving a biting reply - what gave it away? (please note the sarcasm) Instead, he nodded his head and replied with a short "Yes."

He took note of the other boy's dæmon which was coiled snugly around his wrist rather looking like a piece of jewellery instead. It wrapped along the boy's right arm, or he assumed by the uneven lumps that could be seen through the robe the other wore. A _horned serpent_. Harry wondered how he could get his robes fitted with that around his arm but just mentally shrugged. It wasn't really his concern.

His dæmon was also in the way of his robe fitting - with the bird perched comfortably on his shoulder. So he had the small creature to perch on his hand instead.

"What house are you going to be in?"

Harry raised a brow, "Aren't we supposed to get sorted first?"

The blonde boy flushed, his embarrassment showing as a healthy blush of pink stained his cheeks easily - standing out against his fair skin. "Ah well yes, of course." Clearing his throat as a mean to gather himself, he rephrased his question. "What house do you want to get sorted to? I'm sure I will be sorted to Slytherin, my family has only ever been sorted there for decades."

"I really have no preference, any house is fine for me."

The pale boy gave him a wary glance, his brows furrowing and a scowl beginning to form on his lips. "You're not a _mud blood_ are you?" He asked with suspicion, aimed at Harry as he surveyed him from head to toe. He ignored Madam Malkin's loud gasp of horror from his use of word as he continued to stare down at the raven haired boy. Harry wasn't particularly fazed by the former's choice of words even though it was rather close to hitting home for his liking. He couldn't deny that his mother was indeed a muggle born.

He raised an eyebrow instead -he seemed to be doing that a lot lately- as he met the other boy's gaze with a bit of amusement showing through. "I'm a half-blood."

The pale boy was still slightly uneasy he could see, his scowl was gone but he still has a displease expression on his face. "That's better than being _one of those_ , I suppose."

They both held a conversation for a while, with the blonde boy yowling and over reacting every time a pin prickles him. They talked about everything, the subjects they were interested in, Quidditch, their dæmons and anything else they could think of. Harry could proudly say that they knew almost everything about each other like they have been friends for years.

"Honestly, I can't believe you would still stay with your relatives after all they have done to you. Why don't you just move out? You certainly have enough money to do so."

They have both finished their robe fitting hours ago, but they had opted to stay and wait for their requests to be finished so they could talk longer with each other. Loki had also migrated from his hand, now perching on his original spot which was Harry's shoulder.

"I guess I should. I haven't really gotten used to all of this, yet."

"I guess so. Muggles, the lot of them. They are seriously despicable creatures, brute an-" The pureblood froze, realising something important that he has seriously forgotten. "Wait, I haven't got your name."

The black haired boy blinked in surprise, having missed the small tiny detail as well. "Ah I knew I was forgetting something."

They both chucked in unison, extending a hand for a handshake.

"My name is Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy." Draco introduced himself imperiously, his head held high in pride. "You may call me Draco."

Harry smirked as he shook the other's hand firmly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Draco. I am Harry Potter, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter." He grinned at the shocked look on his friend's face. It was quite comical actually. His eyes bugged out - seemingly ready to pop out of his eye sockets, and his jaw hung open.

"But you can call me Harry."

.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Long A/N coming through! Just want to clear out a couple of points._

 _+++ I know I have mentioned money multiple times at the beginning of this chapter and implied that Harry is greedy but that isn't actually the case. I cannot stress enough the hardships that Harry went through as he literally almost starved to death. Now out of nowhere, he is suddenly informed that his relatives were given his money and could've fed him properly all along._

 _+++ I dislike Hermione, and I slightly implied that somewhere in this chapter. If you have a problem with that, i'm sorry._

 _+++ Sorry that this was all over the place. I had to do snippets incase I put too much details and just ramble on and on and on._

 _I still hope you enjoyed this though. If not, I will try and make the next chapter better.  
Please do leave a review!_

 _As usual, English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes._

 _Peace out,_  
 _Parsel._


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